Living Chemical Child
by Jukebox Hound
Summary: It wasn't like Hojo had left clear instructions on how to reverse a sacrifice to the Gate. SxZxC, FMA crossover.
1. Terra Damnata

**Main Pairing**: Established Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud**  
Canon**: FFVII (original game only) + Fullmetal Alchemist (bits from both anime and manga)**  
Rating/Warnings**: Light R – alchemical torture, some sexuality, meandering thoughts on alchemy and philosophy, general unhappiness.**  
Summary**: It wasn't like Hojo had left clear instructions on how to reverse a sacrifice to the Gate.**  
Note**: Though this is a crossover, the focus is on Sephiroth, Zack, and Cloud, who have their own situation entirely separate from the Elrics'. Rather than being a 'proper' story, this is just going to be a series of oneshots pertaining to the same plotline. The title comes from a passage in the book by Robert Allen Bartlett, _Real Alchemy_.

I have no excuse for this save a late-night crack conversation with artimusdin. *headdesk*

* * *

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**I. Terra Damnata.**

(n.):_ "Damned earth," _Lat_. The leftover distillate from the distillation  
process, which is considered devoid of any Sulfurous or Mercurial  
nature. This lack makes the Physical matter inert and incapable of  
higher alchemical evolution.  
_

Water, thirty-five liters. Carbon, twenty kilograms. Ammonia, four liters. Lime, one-point-five kilograms. Phosphorus, eight hundred grams. Salt, two hundred fifty grams. Saltpeter, one hundred grams. Sulfur, eighty grams. Fluorine, seven-point five grams. Iron, five grams. Silicon, three grams. Trace amounts of fifteen other elements.

Human soul: _unknown_. Individual spirit: _unknown_.

At least the body was still breathing. Didn't need to worry about committing the greatest sin, didn't…need to transmute human flesh. Just needed the other two parts that combined to make an otherwise useless body into _Cloud_.

Stop. Back up.

Water, thirty-five liters. All the other elements that composed a human body present and accounted for. Technically, said body was in perfect working order: the heart beat, the lungs breathed, core temperature was still ninety-eight-point-six degrees Fahrenheit. There was no discoloration, putrefaction, or other signs of wasting, which meant that the IVs were doing their job of keeping the body fed and hydrated.

The problem was that there was _nothing inside_, and Sephiroth – he wasn't. Didn't know what to _do_. Was helpless in a way that he'd never been before, and just. He _didn't know what to do_.

Stop. Breathe.

Sephiroth set down yet another of his father's journals with forced patience. The way Hojo worked, he rarely put down the entirety of his experiments, only just enough to keep track of what happened and when, but never _why_, never enough detail for someone to replicate those experiments. Paranoid bastard. And there were so many journals to go through, some dating back to the time before Sephiroth's birth, and who knew which one contained the line of research that had led Hojo to this point? Did a madman even need a straight progression of logic and careful analysis?

It took a monumental effort to tear himself away from Hojo's desk – _if only he kept looking just a little longer, he might find the answer, however unlikely_ – and he paced restlessly back into the lab that adjoined the library, feeling his breath catch in his chest. Cloud lay so still on the table, so small and thin with the IV tubes leading from the bends of his elbows, so unlike what he was when awake and moving and being his stubborn, quiet, loyal self.

_Need to move him, he shouldn't have to stay in this lab_. It was the laboratory of a doctor more concerned with efficiency than compassion, all sharp edges and surgical steel, and even though Sephiroth had grown up in these surroundings, even he knew that it wasn't healthy. Wasn't _right_. He sat on the edge of the table and ran a hand through the tips of Cloud's hair, unable to handle a firmer touch when he knew he wouldn't get a response.

"Sephiroth?"

He continued petting the edges of spiky yellow hair silently, not looking up when Zack entered still in full uniform. There was a long silence before the soldier said softly, "I convinced the brass that you're working on your annual assessment a bit ahead of schedule. Central Command should excuse your absence for a while."

Sephiroth didn't respond. He heard the rustling and soft thud as Zack slipped the Buster sword's harness off, leaning the weapon against the wall before walking over to put a hand on Sephiroth's shoulder. He didn't ask obvious questions of _did you find anything, what do you think is going on_, just fixed his expression into the hard determination that had gotten him through the end of the Ishbal war.

"We already know Hojo was trying to reach the Gate, Sephiroth. It's a start. We'll figure out how to get Cloud back."

"He was a sacrifice," and for a moment Sephiroth felt a fury that was rare, but when it came, it was black and vengeful and destructive. "He was a _sacrifice_ and I don't – "

Stop. Before setting the world on fire started sounding like a brilliant idea.

The grip Zack had on his shoulder tightened to something painful. "Equivalent exchange. If we can figure out what Hojo might've gotten in return, we may be able to reverse the deal."

Sephiroth made a disbelieving sound as he started stroking Cloud's hair once more. Cloud didn't wake up.


	2. Ora et Labora

**Word Count**:1,114**  
Date**: 16 July 2010  
Unbetaed.

* * *

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**II. Ora et Labora.**

"_Pray and Work," _Lat. _A true Alchemist  
does not work with only the Physical._

The mansion was like a cross between a museum and a crypt, its empty silence heavy and watchful. It made Zack's skin crawl, but given what secrets he'd discovered here, the damn place had _always_ done that to him.

(It wasn't often that they could get Cloud to stay longer than a few hours. He was just a lowly specialist and it wouldn't look good for a general to be seen too often with a young, fresh-faced soldier. But when they _could_, then the house would ring with startled laughter as Zack ambushed the kid, or with indignant cries whenever he fell into one of Zack's pranks.)

Zack had to take a moment to brace himself against the kitchen counter, ignoring the popping of the eggs cooking in the pan on the stove. _Oh God, Cloud._ But he had to remind himself, as he had countless times already, to keep it together, can't afford to lose it when Sephiroth was already on the edge. It felt like a small betrayal to suddenly wish so fiercely for his old lover's help – _Aeris would know what to do, she always did_.

(This one time, Zack and Sephiroth had gotten at each other's throats, too much _why do you always have to act so immature _and _why can't you ever act like a normal person_. Cloud stood between them with his arms crossed, and when it nearly came to blows he said _you're both being stupid, if either of you acted like someone else then you never would've started this relationship in the first place._)

Letting out a long breath, he flipped the eggs from the pan onto a plate, grabbed a mug of black coffee strong enough to scour the rust off iron, and set off for the spiral stairs that wound down into the basement lab. Things scuttled through the shadows lining the stairs and the long underground corridor, but Zack paid them no mind and eventually kicked his way into the old library.

(_Zack_, Cloud would say timidly, _Sephiroth's been down there for a long time. Has he eaten? I don't think he's eaten. _And Zack would say _sometimes he gets like that, he can go for days without remembering to eat_, and Cloud would furrow his brow and chew his lip_. That's not healthy. I'll go make some mashed potatoes, he likes those. Would you like any?_)

"Time to eat, Sephiroth."

No reply.

"You can't think if you don't eat."

"I'm not hungry."

_Neither am I, but some things just have to be done_. "Sephiroth, if you don't eat, your mind really won't be able to function clearly, and then you're more likely to miss something that can help Cloud."

Sephiroth slammed a book shut and put his head in his hands, leaning his elbows heavily on the oak desk. "Sometimes it feels like something's possessing me," he whispered, staring down at the embossed cover, "like there's a voice telling me the answers are there if I can just _find _them."

Zack set the plate and mug down on the desk, steering clear of the clutter of books and papers, and threaded a hand through the other's long hair. "It's guilt," he said quietly. "Probably a healthy dose of anxiety and self-doubt, too. Don't let it distract you."

"…No, you're right. As usual, you're right," Sephiroth sighed, sitting up again and closing his eyes. It was a moment of vulnerability that no one outside of Zack and Cloud had ever been allowed to see. "I can't afford to let my emotions cloud my – "

"I meant it for _your _sake, too, you idiot."

"I shouldn't have killed Hojo."

"If you hadn't, _I _would have," Zack said with sudden fierceness.

"He's the one that did this – "

Zack turned the desk chair and got to one knee so that he could look up into Sephiroth's face, a hand on each of the armrests trapping the other man in place. "This is _Hojo _we're talking about. Even if he had any idea how to reverse what he did to Cloud, do you honestly think he would've ever told you?"

(_Not everyone's stupid_, Zack had told Cloud seriously. _Anyone with half an eye can see that there's something different about Sephiroth._ And Cloud knew exactly what he meant: there was something a little too _feline _about the general's green eyes, a little too predatory in his bearing to be entirely human, but after a moment of thought Cloud just shrugged. _Whatever Hojo may or may not have done – and remember, Zack, there's no proof of anything – it can't be reversed, and it's become so much a part of Sephiroth that what does it really matter? He's still human where it counts._ And Zack had smiled so hard it hurt because finally, _finally _someone understood what Zack himself had been saying all this time.)

"Everyone has a breaking point."

"And Hojo was already so cracked that I really, really doubt we would've gotten anything useful out of him. He would've just sent you on a wild goose chase, Sephiroth, he would've told you whatever he had to so you would get distracted from the actual problem."

"Then I would have gone as far as necessary to _make _him tell us the truth," he hissed with such poison that Zack felt cold fear; not fear of the man, but _for _him, because that sort of darkness could eat a man alive. And God knew that Sephiroth had enough of that darkness as it was.

(Men, women, and children were dying, streaking the sand with blood. They didn't stand a chance under the stones that the Mercury Alchemist could form from the dust in the air, striking like a shower of falling stars. _I was lucky_, Sephiroth had told Zack_. I may have chosen to look them in the face as I killed them, but it's the Flame Alchemist I pity_, except that his voice had been utterly deadpan. _He's the one that had to bear their screams as they burned._)

"All right, here's the plan," the soldier said calmly. "We're both going to eat. Then we're going to sleep for a few hours because you've been up for the last twenty-six…no, don't argue with me, you know I'm right. Then we're going to sit down, and you're going to run me through the basics of what we _do _know. Maybe that'll help you figure out where to start."

The struggle was visible on Sephiroth's face. Zack held his gaze, refusing to back down or look away, and finally the general gave a short, jerky nod. As he pulled Sephiroth to his feet, Zack happened to glance at the State Alchemist watch lying abandoned on top of a book and couldn't help a troubled frown.


	3. Circulation

**Word Count**: 774**  
Date**: 19 July 2010**  
Note**: So I said the three would have their own situation separate from the FMA storyline. And it's true, except that Roy and Hughes are political opportunists that like to mess with anyone's good intentions.

* * *

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**III. Circulation.**

(n.): _A process of continued distillation used to evolve  
one's subject matter. It is not unusual to let a  
substance circulate for a month or longer._

"Apparently the Mercury Alchemist has taken a leave of absence."

Roy was so busy eyeing the stack of photos that had ominously appeared on the edge of his desk that it took him a moment to realize what Hughes was saying. "General Sephiroth? Why?"

A light shrug. "Haven't been able to figure that out yet. Lieutenant Fair has been running around Central like a madman, which suggests that this sabbatical wasn't exactly planned."

Roy leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully twirled a pen. Of the few generals that the military had, Sephiroth was the only State Alchemist, and also the youngest, younger even than Roy. Whispers of conspiracy had followed him for his entire career. "His annual assessment?"

"Except he wasn't scheduled to present anything for another several months. I'm thinking it has something to do with Hojo's death."

The pen in Roy's fingers immediately stilled. "That is…unexpected."

"Not when you consider how many people hated the man," Hughes said dryly, then added more seriously, "It was murder. The coroner claims it was a long blade, like a rapier – "

"Or the Masamune."

"Except no one's saying _that _little bit aloud. Sephiroth's got influence and not a little bit of worship from the people." General Sephiroth, a hero of the Ishbal Civil War, whose popularity with the people was surpassed only by one, more charismatic, Flame Alchemist.

"And the Fuhrer?"

"Just smiles and says he looks forward to seeing whatever Sephiroth's come up with for this year's research."

"Of course," Roy muttered, glancing past Hughes towards the closed door of his office. He could hear the murmurs of his men and what sounded like Havoc pleading with Hawkeye to put the gun down, please, it won't happen again, no _really_.

"The question now becomes the next course of action, knowing that one of the generals has left Central."

"The others aren't exactly blind. Hakuro, for example, will be especially careful of anyone looking to take advantage of the situation," Roy pointed out.

"Not everyone, however, has _me _on their side." Hughes' smile had an edge of dark amusement. He took off his glasses and started cleaning them with the hem of his shirt. "There's another bit of intrigue here," he said casually, and Roy arched a brow. "One of the men in Sephiroth's unit has disappeared. A kid, really, he's only sixteen or seventeen, just a specialist."

"And?"

"Well, there were some rumors not too long ago of inappropriate conduct, although people couldn't seem to decide if the conduct was on the part of the general or the lieutenant. A few seemed to think it was all three. Maybe the kid and the general decided to elope. Ah, the romance of it! Love against all odds!"

Roy rolled his eyes, unimpressed. Such rumors were almost expected and were rarely taken seriously without real evidence; he'd overheard enough of them concerning himself and Fullmetal since the kid had first become a State Alchemist. At _twelve years old_, no less.

"I know, you're thinking that every commanding officer faces those accusations at one time or another – "

"Maes," Roy broke in, "what was it that earned Sephiroth his rank as a State Alchemist?"

Hughes blinked. "I'm no alchemist, but from what I remember," and Hughes had a memory for details like no one else Roy knew, of course, "he was trying to find a way to power crystal spheres with latent energy that could be used by anyone, even non-alchemists. …You're thinking of Ed, aren't you?"

Roy started going through the papers on his desk, looking for the most recent intelligence concerning Fullmetal's whereabouts. If only the kid knew how right he was when he accused Roy of spying. "If Sephiroth was using stones and crystals in his research, I imagine he would've been tempted by the true Philosopher's Stone at some point. Perhaps he'd know something that could help Fullmetal in his search."

"And if Ed, in his usual way, blundered into discovering what was going on, that would just be a coincidence. And if it just so happened to have something to do with getting you a little closer to the top, well, stranger things have happened."

"Indeed."

…

Somewhere halfway across Amestris, Ed sneezed.


	4. Mercury of Air

**Word Count**: ~450**  
Date**: 20 July 2010**  
Note**: I studied philosophy and religion, not science. Um, humor me?

* * *

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**IV. Mercury of Air.**

_The Mercury of Air is the Active Energy of the  
Air Element, i.e. the Spirit of the Intellect._

Sephiroth was sixteen years old when he stood in front of Central Command and presented his case to be a State Alchemist.

_Metal is characterized by high electric and thermal conductivity and is possessed of an ordered structure. While also possessing an ordered structure, crystal lacks this conductivity unless impurities have been introduced. If given materials can be created to contain as well as conduct energy, it may be possible to store that energy for later use – independent of alchemical circles. And if this could be accomplished, then it may also be possible that those without alchemical skill can use the energy contained within said materia._

Fascinating, true potential. But this is all speculative. What can you provide the military for immediate use?

_Condensation of the heavier elements in the air: reduction of air pollutants, particularly in coal mines; formation of defensive and offensive earthworks when circumstances prevent the usual alchemical methods._

Be more specific.

_When floods have decimated or buried an area, air-borne particles can be molded into walls, dams, and other boundaries just as reliably. Projectiles may also be formed, even from behind enemy lines._

Like a meteor shower?

_If that is how you wish to describe it._

He spoke without hesitation or fervor, only the calm of a person confident in their words. Fuhrer Bradley had looked down at this teenage boy, silver-haired and black-clad and wearing an expression of cool blankness, and smiled.

One more thing. Who is your sponsor?

_Professor Hojo, sir. He is my father._

Well now, isn't that interesting. _You will be the Mercury Alchemist_.

…

But the name, you see, was something of a cruel joke. On the surface it may not seem so, given that there was already a Silver Alchemist and 'quicksilver' would just get too confusing. However.

Mercury: physical manifestation of Spirit, the active energy binding together the passive energy of the Soul and the receptive platform of the Body. This theoretical 'materia' could be the beginning of packaging and selling an otherwise sacred substance. Ah, the progressiveness of capitalism.

It is also beautiful, and was once believed to be a miracle cure. In reality, it is highly lethal.

And if the rumors about Hojo and Sephiroth's birth were correct…you should understand, Sephiroth wasn't a chimera or a homunculus, he wasn't that kind of abomination. But nevertheless, it made a terrible sort of sense.

When he accepted the dragon-embossed pocketwatch, Sephiroth understood precisely what the Fuhrer was suggesting. _Alchemist of Mercury_. As he stood over Cloud's empty body, perhaps he would finally have the chance to live up to the name.


	5. Philosophical Working

**Word Count**: 1,419**  
Date**: 21 July 2010**  
Note**: Disjointed philosophical and pseudo-scientific exposition. At great length. Because I can.**  
Disclaimer**: The below definition is quoted verbatim from Bartlett's _Real Alchemy.

* * *

_

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**V. Philosophical Working.**

(n.): _The Alchemist [believes] that by understanding Nature's  
laws and applying them with Art, that it is possible to remove  
hindrances to the evolutionary wave so that the energies of  
life can predominate and lift the subject towards perfection._

They moved Cloud from the lab to one of the bedrooms on the first floor. It was a light, airy room overlooking one of the overgrown gardens, where the IV stands and monitors didn't seem quite so unnatural. Sephiroth had carried him while Zack carefully balanced all the tubes and bags, trying to keep them from getting tangled or yanked from under Cloud's skin. Cloud had been stripped of his clothes and then wrapped modestly in a sheet to make caring for his body easier.

Zack now sat on the bed with Cloud's hand in his, absently stroking the skin with a thumb as Sephiroth paced around the room.

"Alchemy is based on the premise that there is a _prima materia_," Sephiroth murmured, "and that this fundamental force naturally falls into duality, Celestial Salt and Celestial Niter."

"Two sides of the same coin," Zack provided, and Sephiroth nodded his head distractedly.

"From this duality come the four classical elements Earth, Fire, Water, and Air. But these aren't the elements we see in the physical world – no, they're _more _than that. They're _essences_, they're…foundations.

"And from these we have the three essentials of Salt, Sulfur, and Mercury. Body, Soul, Spirit. These three are manifestations of the four elements, and thus the duality, and ultimately the _prima materia_."

"Like a pyramid." When Sephiroth shot him a look, Zack raised a brow and said, "Non-alchemist here, I'm just calling it as I see it."

The general snorted and resumed pacing. "We have Cloud's body. Alive, which suggests that his spirit is still somehow connected to it. What's missing is his soul."

"How do you know it isn't the other way around?"

"The soul is bound to the body through the spirit, like an animal at the end of a leash. If the spirit was missing, then by default the soul would be as well. No, if Cloud's body is still living, then the spirit is still there."

"So what can take someone's soul?"

Sephiroth turned sharply on his heel and prowled back across the room. Though his face was neutral, his gloved hands were curled into fists. "The Gate," he said flatly. "Equivalent exchange demands that a price is paid for every transmutation, but the price of a soul is high. It would be connected to something as powerful and taboo as human transmutation."

"Hojo never seemed like the type to pay much attention to taboo."

"No," Sephiroth hissed. "Alchemy was designed to have three stages – separation, purification, and reunification. By putting a substance through this process, it would be evolved into a higher spiritual and physical vibration, make it just that little bit closer towards perfection. I have little doubt that Hojo would've been _enchanted_ by the idea of bringing men to that pinnacle. He always did have a certain disdain for the natural human condition."

Judging from the tone in his voice, Zack had little doubt that if it was possible Sephiroth would be slowly killing Hojo all over again. "What do you mean?"

"Don't tell me you don't see it, Lieutenant," Sephiroth said coldly, stopping to turn and look at him with narrowed eyes. "I am a little too _inhuman_ to be human. I've heard the whispers of soldiers debating which creatures Hojo used to create me, and I cannot blame them – "

"Oh, shut up, Sephiroth," Zack growled. "You are who you are, soul and spirit and, yes, that particular body. I know it, Cloud knows it, and ours are the only opinions that really matter in this instance. Maybe Hojo tinkered with your genetics, but so what? I'm rather fond of that hair of yours, and even though he'd never admit it I know for a fact that Cloud adores your eyes."

When Sephiroth opened his mouth to argue, Zack added, "So unless you're willing to question our intelligence, you better let this drop and just accept it."

Sephiroth hissed again as he resumed pacing, catlike.

"Now, if I was trying to raise a person's 'vibration' or whatever, what would that entail?" the soldier asked.

"Separation of the three essentials, their purification, and then recombining them. Theoretically, it would make a human…_more _human, in essence. Evolve them to the highest possible…humanness."

"…Very eloquent."

"It makes sense in Latin," Sephiroth returned, rather sulkily. "Or Greek, originally. Hojo often spoke of Jenova – "

"Who?"

Sephiroth waved a negligent hand. "The name is a corruption of Jehovah, which itself is a corruption of what is thought to be the true name of God. Why Hojo chose that particular version, I have no idea. The man was usually exact in his methodology, so for him to not use the closest approximation of the original Tetragrammaton – "

Zack nodded and pretended he knew what the general was going on about.

"But it lends credence to the idea that Hojo was attempting human transmutation on…on Cloud." He paused. "Particularly given the name that he chose for me."

"What?"

"My name is the plural of the ten aspects of God," Sephiroth explained. Zack knew him well enough to see the irritation at so much religious imagery, and at this point Sephiroth was nearly talking to himself as he paced around and around, long hair shifting in a somewhat distracting way. "Well, more than just that, technically, given that the virtues all have unholy counterparts, but the point remains that, philosophically speaking, someone who managed to actualize all the virtues would attain godhood. As much as a human can, that is.

"Names are powerful," he said, suddenly switching topics. "Matter, when reduced to less than its subatomic parts, becomes _vibration_ and thus is merely the intersection of said vibrations – which means that the potential power of sound, of words, cannot be underestimated. It makes a beautiful sort of sense. Names give form to otherwise abstract concepts, gives them definition…so it's possible that using Cloud's name – or perhaps the unique vibratory pattern that links his body and soul? Would greatly increase our chances of success. Especially as alchemy itself functions on more than just a material level in the first place and so has some room for error in natural law.

"Then again, I may be confusing entirely separate concepts."

"…Okay," said Zack. Despite the seriousness of the situation, he was having to suppress a smile.

"The circle that Hojo used was unfamiliar to me," and yes, the general had retreated so far into his musings that he'd completely forgotten the rest of the bedroom. Zack focused on the warmth he could feel from Cloud's hand, the steady pulse at the thin wrist, and the sight of Sephiroth in plain shirtsleeves and slacks rambling about metaphysics. "And he used blood, which is powerful. Salt of the body, Sulfur of the passions, Mercury of the life-force. But the theory is sound. He must have been in the second stage of the process when he was interrupted and so the three essentials were separated, but not fully purified nor recombined."

"So…can't we recombine them?"

"_No_. Transmutation on this level…human-animal chimera have been experimented with, but never something like this. This is…this is an atrocity, pure and simple. A violation at _every _level of a person's existence. The alchemist is meant to evolve himself alongside his work as he masters his art, but this - ! Zack, this would be me reaching into the deepest layer of your being and _molding _it against what nature intended."

"Maybe, but the difference here," Zack said quietly, "is that I would trust you to do it."

Sephiroth stared at him as though he'd suddenly become a chimera himself, but Zack just smiled crookedly. "I know none of us say them that often, but the words 'I love you' aren't just the result of some mind-blowing orgasms, y'know. If it were me in Cloud's position right now, I'd be standing around wherever he is and wondering what the hell was taking you so long."

_I know life has done a number on you, Sephiroth, but don't break on me now._

"After everything I've done," the general asked, "you would trust me with something like this?"

"Yes."

Well, that was rather hard to argue with.

"I…all right. Yes."


	6. Separation

**Word Count**: 1,572**  
Date**: 24 July 2010**  
Note**: I don't remember if Chole and Billy had a parent or guardian living with them, but it makes me feel a lot better to think they did.

* * *

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**VI. Separation.**

(n.): _Separation is the first step in evolving a  
substance. The Three Essentials are isolated and  
prepared for the second step, Purification, in turn._

When Cloud woke up, he knew immediately that he wasn't in Amestris.

Well, maybe that was a bit of a stretch, but he definitely wasn't in Central anymore. The air smelled cleaner, for one, not unlike the crispness of his remote mountain hometown, and there was an edge of dry hay. A farm?

He could hear murmurs outside the closed door of the room. He wiggled a bit and realized that he was lying naked between soft linen sheets, and dear God how much did Zack give him to drink? His head was pounding and everything felt sensitized, as though his skin had been scrubbed raw. He didn't recognize the bedroom, all off-white walls and red plaid curtains. It was possible this was just one of the many rooms scattered throughout Sephiroth's mansion that he'd never seen before, except that the previous owners of that place would sooner kill themselves than decorate like a bunch of peasants.

Maybe that headache was making him a little more scrambled than usual.

Cloud gingerly sat up, holding his head with one hand and glancing around. The window opened out onto a landscape of rolling green hills, and the breeze that came in was pleasantly warm from the morning sunlight, even though the light was enough to make him squint. He swung his legs out of the bed and felt rough floorboards under his feet. Gathering the linen modestly around his waist, he padded barefoot towards the door and cautiously cracked it open, shivering in the sudden draft. Why was he feeling so _sensitive? _It was like his nerves were being over-stimulated somehow, but he was mostly sure that Zack wouldn't have given him some kind of happy pill.

"Hello?" he called tentatively. The murmurs had been coming from downstairs, he realized, and they stopped before someone started coming up. Cloud was about to say _Zack, what the hell just happened_, but the person was a teenage girl with a soft smile and bobbed brown hair. He blinked.

"You're awake!" she said. Cloud winced, her words sounding loud. "We were worried, the nearest town with a doctor is an hour away, except it just looked like you'd bumped your head. How are you feeling?"

"Um," he replied. "Where am I?"

"This is the Chocobo Farm. I'm Chole. What's your name?"

"Uh, Cloud. How…how did I get here?"

"We were hoping you could tell _us _that." She looked puzzled and a little worried. "You showed up on our doorstep without any clothes, you know – oh! Here," and she held out a pile of neatly folded clothes. "I'm not sure if they'll fit, but you'll have to make do with some of Billy's clothes. Why don't you get dressed, then come downstairs and have some coffee? We'll see if we can't figure out what happened and how to get you home."

Cloud was left standing at the top of the stairs holding up a sheet with one hand and borrowed clothes in the other.

"…Okay."

Zack must've _really _done a number on him, and why didn't Sephiroth stop him? The general was usually pretty good at making sure Zack didn't go too far.

Cloud shrugged prosaically and got dressed back in the bedroom, skin crawling a little at the chafing. He was rather miffed to find that the clothes were too loose around the waist and a little long, and was it Cloud's fault that he'd inherited his mother's height? The first person to crack a short blond joke was going to get his balls introduced to Cloud's foot. Chole, thankfully, had included a wide leather belt, and he tightened it around the denim trousers before rolling up the sleeves of the white button-down shirt.

He paused while working the third-to-last button, startled. Over his heart was a blood-red mark, like a hexagram with an extra horizontal line through its center. When he ran a finger over it, it felt as smooth and unremarkable as an old tattoo, not at all like the result of a wild drunken night on the town with his superior officers. Seriously, what the _hell _had happened?

_Hojo, standing over him with a twisted smile._

For a moment he was paralyzed with terror, but then time started again and he took a heaving, shaky breath. _Get it together, Strife, plenty of time to panic later._

The stairs opened out in a true farm kitchen with a scrubbed oak table and a large oven for baking bread, and for a moment Cloud felt a sharp pang of homesickness. Chole was busy with a coffee pot on the stove (just like his mum, before she died) and two people, the younger of whom must be Billy, were sitting at the table chatting over steaming mugs.

"Hello, Cloud," said the older man. "I'm Jon, this is Billy. So, what brings you to our little corner of the world?"

"I'm not sure," he said quietly, pulling out a chair and smiling at Chole as she set a mug in front of him. "Last I remember, I was in Central – "

_The circles and symbols were traced on the floor in blood, his own blood, and he couldn't move, it felt like every muscle had been paralyzed and only his mind was awake and screaming – _

"Cloud, you all right?" asked Billy, and Cloud managed another weak smile. Under the edge of the table he picked uneasily at the shirt cuffs.

"Yeah…yeah, I'm fine. Just, um. Confused. How far is Central from here?"

"I don't know," said Jon. "What's Central?"

…Did he really just ask that? Cloud thought, bemused. "Y'know, the capital? Of Amestris?"

He got three blank looks in return, and dread was starting to grow in his belly.

"Is that a city? The closest big city is Midgar, and that's some hundreds of miles away. There's Junon, too, a couple hours south of there."

_Maybe I'm in Drachma?_ In which case, he was _really _screwed. But Nibelheim had been on the border of Amestris and Drachma, resulting in an odd mix of cultures, so if these cities were as big as the old man was suggesting then he should've heard of them before. And the question remained: How did he get here from Hojo's lab? (_Better not think about that right now, focus on the present, these people wouldn't appreciate it if you started screaming_).

And why the hell had he been _naked?_

It must've been something Hojo was doing, but Cloud wasn't an alchemist. He only understood the basics, and he'd only practiced whenever no one else was around. He'd never heard of alchemical transportation; the energy that would be required to shift the mass of a human from one place to another instantaneously would be insane. Like, supernova insane. Unless…the Philosopher's Stone? e thought of the rumors about the Ishbal Civil War, about Amestrian alchemists wearing small blood-red stones. Imperfect ones, but nevertheless closer to the Great Work than any other time in history.

"Have you heard of alchemy?" Cloud asked slowly, and the dread turned hard and cold when all three shook their heads.

"What's that?"

"…It's the scientific study of natural and spiritual law. Alchemists can manipulate those laws – "

"Sounds like magic to me," Billy declared, and Cloud couldn't help a wry smile. If only Sephiroth had been around to hear that.

"This is all very interesting," said Jon, "but we've got to figure what we're going to do with you."

"He could stay here," Chole chimed in. "We could always use another set of hands around the stables."

"Yeah, the chicobos are getting to be racing age, y'know, and they're always a handful then," added Billy.

Jon frowned. "Now don't you two be getting ahead of yourselves. This is Cloud's decision."

Feeling rather overwhelmed, he asked, "Do you have a world map?"

"Aye, we do, though I don't know what you be wanting with a _world _map." Jon lumbered up and disappeared into what was presumably a living room, returning shortly with a worn, folded map in hand. He spread it out on the table and jabbed what looked like nothing but green plains covering half a continent. "We're hereabouts. Midgar's over here, and here's Junon. Where did you say you were from?"

"Amestris."

All four peered at the map for several minutes before Billy announced, "I don't see Amestris anywhere. Maybe it's too small to show up on this?"

_But…it's _Amestris. "Um, what about Drachma?"

"Sounds like a northern name." Jon pointed to the western continent. "Nope, don't see it."

Cloud didn't see it either, but he couldn't miss Nibelheim. His eyes widened. "How do I get _there_?"

"Nibelheim? I think I've heard of it. It's a reactor town, if I remember right. I guess you'd take a ship from Midgar to Costa del Sol and pray you find someone to take you over all those mountains."

Cloud stared at the map and its unfamiliar landforms – continents where there should have been oceans, empty stretches of land where cities should be flourishing. Where Nibelheim apparently hadn't been burned to the ground by Drachmian terrorists. Where there were no rumors of war because Amestris and Drachma didn't seem exist, where Ishbal hadn't become a genocide, where Xing wasn't struggling with its own internal politics.

…_Where am I?_


	7. Fire

**Word Count**: 1,357**  
Date**: 2 August 2010**  
Note**: Normally the insignia for (an American) colonel is the eagle, but since the symbol of Amestris is the dragon, well. This is also set in the past, both just after the war and then after Ed became a National Alchemist.

* * *

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**VII. Fire.**

(n.): _Fire is the highest of the four Essential Elements, the  
Rarefied Air closest to the Lunar Gate of the Heavens.  
It is the Element of the Soul, ambition, and power._

The polished marble and swept cobblestone of Central shone in the noon sunlight as brightly as if it had just been built. The grand steps in front of Central Command were lined with soldiers that led up to the dais, where the white dragon of Amestris flew on a silk banner. Uniforms were crisp, boots polished, hair slicked or pinned back, and all Sephiroth could feel was disgust.

He'd already had the ceremony formalizing his new rank, so he stood with the other generals ranging on the right side of the Fuhrer. This was to honor the heroes of the war, the brave men and women that had distinguished themselves in defending the life and liberty of Amestris. Never mind that thousands of other Amestrian men and women had been killed in rage and terror and mindless violence. Never mind that an entire people had been slaughtered. _But people must suffer for others to shine. People may have died, but others demonstrated the valor and strength that they wouldn't have otherwise._

So said the Fuhrer after Sephiroth had pointed out those little details. _The needs of the many must outweigh the needs of the few, General. These ideas of individualism undermine the functionality of a society._

_But surely_ _compassion_ –

_Is there something in particular you have in mind, General?_ the Fuhrer had asked, and though the man had been smiling there was something that made Sephiroth's skin crawl. So he replied, _No, I'm merely disconcerted by being back in a city after the frontlines_, and the Fuhrer clapped him on the back and said, _Understandable, Sephiroth, entirely understandable_.

The sunlight was hot against the dark blue wool of his uniform. Sephiroth watched as each name was called, followed by a short rendition of the national anthem as the man or woman shook hands with the Fuhrer and the generals, and each person seemed to be either dazed or flushed with excitement. _I fought for my country and my country is honoring that_, they were no doubt thinking – except Sephiroth wanted to say_ no, not this time, this is just Bradley's politics and Bradley's schemes and Bradley's lies_.

It took him a moment to realize that the Fuhrer's good eye was narrowed ever so slightly. He followed Bradley's line of sight to the soldier next in line to be called.

"The Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang!"

Mustang walked up the long steps with casual grace, as calm as the Fuhrer himself.

"For outstanding courage," began the Fuhrer, but Sephiroth was more interested in Mustang's expression. He was attentive, but there was none of the thrill that was in the other soldiers, no anxiety, no awe at being face to face with the Fuhrer and his generals. Just resolve, or perhaps determination. _And obviously Bradley sees it_.

Newly promoted to Colonel – two ranks higher than when he'd been sent out to Ishbal – and with ribbons of campaign and service, Mustang held himself still as General Raven pinned the silver dragon emblem onto his lapel. He shook hands with the generals. Each general said something along the lines of _congratulations, you're an asset to our nation_, _you have a bright future ahead of you_, but when Sephiroth took his hand, he said softly, "Thank you for saving the people that you could. It was an honor to serve with you."

Dark almond eyes widened briefly before Mustang could help himself, and then he smiled wryly, a little bitterly. "Thank you, General."

His grip was firm, his spine straight, his expression as calm as a pool of water. Sephiroth had no ambition of his own, could care less about promotion, but that didn't mean he was above the battlefield of politics.

_I wonder what change this Mustang is determined to make_.

…

One of the last people Roy expected to see in the officers' bar was General Sephiroth. The man sat alone at the end of the counter, given a wide berth by the other patrons and surprisingly free of Lieutenant Fair's company.

Making a snap decision Roy casually strode over and took the seat beside Sephiroth. He couldn't deny that the general was intimidating, aloof and watchful, tall and renowned for both his alchemical and physical prowess. Even now he wore his gloves, black with a stitched white array that had some sort of basis in both air and earth, but since Roy rarely took off his own he couldn't really criticize.

"Good evening, General," he said, motioning for a drink. The barkeeper slid over a glass of whiskey.

There was a pause. "Good evening, Colonel."

A companionable silence passed as each took a sip of their respective drink.

"How are your men?" Sephiroth asked.

"They're well. I can honestly say that I'm lucky to have been assigned the people I have."

"I've heard that you have recently taken a twelve-year-old boy under your command."

"Indeed," Roy replied smoothly, mind racing through all the possible things the general might be thinking. "Fullmetal is considered a genius in alchemy."

From the corner of his eye he saw a rueful smile flicker over Sephiroth's face. "He'll have quite a time in the military, but I imagine that you will do your best to ease his way."

_Hoping to manipulate Fullmetal somehow? _The boy was hardly discrete in his talent, after all, and if anyone could manage to control him then he would be controlling an effective weapon. _Suspicion of sexual abuse? _ Inevitable, when such a young child was taken into service. _Public face?_ No doubt Sephiroth knew the newspapers would eat up the story of a poor lost boy being guided by the benevolent military. This wouldn't be the first time that Roy had had to face other officers eyeing who they thought was an impressionable young genius.

"Relax, Colonel," said Sephiroth, his normally flat voice tinged with amusement. "It was idle curiosity, nothing more."

"I never thought otherwise." Friendly tone. Sip of whiskey. Discrete attention to the general's body language and words. _Sephiroth's a bit of an odd duck, _Hughes had told him. _He's got some eyes and ears in Intelligence – and you wouldn't _believe_ how long it took me to figure out it was Tseng, it's embarrassing – but there's no indication of him abusing his power, no cover-up, no scandal. The only vaguely unusual thing was his demand to the Fuhrer himself that Lieutenant Fair be transferred to his command after the war._

Sephiroth leaned on his elbow and looked at Roy from the corner of his eyes, so green they almost seemed to glow in the dim light of the bar.

"As a wise man once told me, General, that men like us carry the weight of the world's sins so that others may remain innocent," Roy said softly. And that was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? In Rizembool Roy had seen a child with the eyes of a soldier and there was something…wrongwith that, as though all his sacrifices during the Ishbal war had been for nothing. Of course there was ambition and a kind of _weapons acquisition_ in having the Fullmetal Alchemist under his command, and by his extension his just-as-genius brother, but Roy could admit to himself with brutal honesty that there was also an element of redemption.

Without taking his gaze off Roy, Sephiroth idly swirled the whiskey in his own glass and murmured, "Few people are able to shoulder such responsibility and not break beneath it. It is important, therefore, to support those few for the sake of the innocent."

Then Sephiroth drained his glass, dropped some cenz on the counter, and stood up with a half-smile. "I always come away from your company with something to think about, Colonel. Have a good night."

He swept out of the bar and left Roy staring down into his drink, wondering what the hell he was supposed to think about potentially having the support of a man like Sephiroth.


	8. Oil of Silver

**Chapter Warnings**: Mention of sex, language.**  
Word Count**: 2,060**  
Date**: 4 August 2010

I keep telling myself to space out updates but it's like giving a kid a bag of cookies and telling her she can only have one.

* * *

**Living Chemical Child**_**  
Hades' Phoenix**_

**XI. Oil of Silver.**

_The extracted Sulfur of Silver is efficacious for  
disorders of the brain, memory, and emotions;  
particularly for depression and emotional trauma._

Cloud wasn't a stranger to nightmares. They'd become a common occurrence these last two years, and while that didn't make them any easier to bear, he'd learned to face them with quiet resignation.

Nor was he the type to sit up straight in bed, a scream in his throat, or the type to flail and cry out. No, when he awoke from a nightmare, it was like a slime of horror was sliding off his face, turning the transition from sleep to awareness a surreal experience. The hitching of breath followed almost immediately, and sometimes tears but not so often anymore, and he'd turn onto his side to press his face into the pillow and breathe out the grief that tightened his chest. There was nothing dramatic, never a sound louder than a gasp or harsh exhale, as though his mind was still trapped in the border between shock and horror.

But this was the first time he'd had a nightmare during one of the rare occasions in which he was able to share a bed overnight with Sephiroth and Zack. He clawed his way away from fire and screams to wakefulness, staring for a long moment up at the ceiling and trying to breathe through the tightness in his chest, before turning over to curl into a tight ball as though collapsing in upon himself.

"Cloud?"

The hand on his shoulder made him twitch sharply, making Sephiroth immediately withdraw. He tried to open his mouth to speak, say _I'm fine, sorry to wake you_, except he couldn't find the words over the adrenaline and sorrow burrowing their way through his veins like living things. He must've made some sound in his sleep and triggered those soldier reflexes in the general, but it wasn't like Cloud would know, he'd never had someone beside him like this.

"Cloud?" Sephiroth whispered again, shifting to slowly slide a hand back onto Cloud's shoulder and down his arm. On Sephiroth's other side Zack made a sleepy grumbling sound.

"I'm sorry," he whispered back shakily, keeping his face in the pillow because _god _he was a mess. "It's all right, I didn't mean to wake you."

"You don't have to apologize." Sephiroth leaned forward slightly, his long hair sliding forward across Cloud's bare torso. "Nightmare?"

"It's nothing, really." Goddamnit, his voice was still cracking slightly. He sat up, managing a smile that felt horribly fake on his own face but unable to meet the man's eyes. "I slept a lot yesterday anyway, guess it carried over tonight. Go back to sleep, okay? I'm just gonna make some coffee and do some reading."

"Cloud…"

He slid out of bed, blushing to realize that he was still naked as he snatched up his trousers and slipped them on. He flashed another one of those fake smiles and escaped the bedroom, shoving his hands into his pockets when he realized they were shaking.

Once in the kitchen, lit by the glow of the small lamp Sephiroth habitually kept burning at night, he stood in the middle and stared sightlessly out the window overlooking a lawn turned silver in the moonlight. The clock said it was only four-thirty. Had to be back at the Academy at eight for morning drills. He should really use the time to do the reading for his tactics class, hadn't exactly had the time last night when his clothes were stripped off of him and he'd been pushed onto the bed, on his hands and knees with Zack in his mouth and Sephiroth fucking him from behind. Probably had bruises on his hips by now. Throat still felt a little raw, but that was his own fault, really, hadn't been able to resist teasing and sucking until Zack was all but senseless and uncontrolled.

Cloud wrapped his arms around himself and suddenly felt very alone. Overwhelmed. What was he doing, he was fucking _two _superior officers and couldn't even stop being such a wimp, it had all happened two years ago and he'd survived, hadn't he, wasn't supposed to be crying in the middle of the night like a scared little kid. Who was he kidding, he was just a teenager with absolutely no idea what he was doing or what he was _supposed _to do. As soon as Sephiroth and Zack realized he wasn't worth the time and was just a stand-in until they realized they loved each other best, he wasn't going to have anything but to go through the motions of the military.

He jumped again as Sephiroth's arms slid around his waist, who had to bend over slightly to accommodate the difference in their heights. A sharp chin rested lightly on the top of his head as a broad, warm body pressed itself against his back. Cloud held his breath, waiting for the questions – Zack would've pressed, he was the type to drag everything out into the open like squeezing the pus from a fresh wound –

But the silence stretched on, save for the steady ticking of the clock by the doorway. He hardly noticed when he started leaning back into the steady warmth, withdrawing into the circle of Sephiroth's arms as though he were wrapping himself up in a blanket and hiding from the rest of the world. After a little while he felt Sephiroth start to stand back, but before he could turn around the man was draping Zack's military jacket over his shoulders (he could tell, it smelled like that weirdly fruity and _totally _not girly aftershave that apparently reminded him of his jungle hometown) and moving towards the coffee pot on the counter.

Unsure and still feeling a little distant from the real world, Cloud shifted awkwardly, watching from under his bangs. Sephiroth was getting out two mugs, milk, and sugar as the coffee percolated. Then he filled both cups, adding just the right proportions of milk and sugar to the one that he finally handed to Cloud. Cloud hesitated, searching his face for any clue of how he was expected of respond, but all he found was calm and something _soft_, something that made him blush without knowing why. When he took the mug, Sephiroth wordlessly guided him towards the living room, sitting on the sofa and pulling Cloud down to stretch out on the cushions with his side pressed against the general's arm. Cloud glanced sideways at Sephiroth again, but the man was just sipping and watching the faint glow of the embers in the fireplace. Slowly Cloud relaxed, taking a sip of his own coffee and feeling its warmth pool in his belly to spread through his limbs. Zack's too-large jacket was still around his shoulders like a fitted quilt.

He was warm but not from the heat of an inferno. It was quiet and still and maybe he could finally breathe again.

…

When the alarm went off at seven, Zack padded out in his boxers to the living room. He found Sephiroth dozing with his chin tipped forward onto his chest and Cloud fast asleep with his head in Sephiroth's lap, Zack's own jacket pulled tight around him. Two half-empty mugs sat on the side table, suggesting that Sephiroth had had the foresight to set them aside before either of them had conked out.

Zack smiled ruefully. It looked like it'd been the right choice to let Sephiroth win the brief debate earlier about who was going to follow Cloud out of the bedroom. He weighed the pros and cons of letting them sleep and be late for work or the Academy, but when he saw the shadows under Cloud's eyes he decided it wouldn't be too difficult to bullshit a pardon for the cadet's absence that day.

…

Sephiroth was debating with himself the merits of having General Hakuro assassinated when the door of his office abruptly opened. Zack wandered in with an open folder in his hands, kicking the door closed behind him and flopping down onto the leather couch. He didn't look up once.

"So it seems that Cloud is from this place called Nibelheim," Zack began without preamble, not noticing the mix of annoyance and exasperation on his superior's face. "Tiny town in buttfuck nowhere near the Drachmian border."

"And?" Sephiroth asked dryly, setting aside his paperwork. It wasn't like he could turn it in, given the doodles of stick figures with nooses around their necks.

"Turns out that two years ago the whole place burned to the ground. There's a note here in Cloud's file saying he was the only survivor."

And suddenly things were a lot less entertaining. "He would've been fourteen," Sephiroth said quietly.

"Yeah." Zack finally looked up, wearing a cynical expression. "No wonder he joined the military so young, looks like he went to Briggs not long after and got transferred here. Medical records say he's got some social anxiety and a tendency towards depression, but having something like that on top of being a teenage kid? Shit."

There was a moment of silence. Sephiroth used it to absorb this information, fitting it in with what he knew of the boy. He remembered the night a few weeks ago when Cloud had been driven from bed, and here was the likeliest reason.

"What was the date?"

"Uh, August eleventh, nineteen-twelve. Oh shit, that's his fucking birthday."

Of course it was. "When was did he show up at Briggs?"

"About a month later, it looks like."

"Does it say where he was in the interim?"

"Nope."

A fourteen-year-old tragedy survivor on his own for a month. That…actually explained some things. Sephiroth leaned forward on his elbows and pinched the bridge of his nose with a gloved hand. What was one supposed to say to something like that? 'Gee, that sucks'?

Zack unknowingly echoed his thoughts with, "So what do we do?"

"I don't know," he admitted, then glanced down at the folder in Zack's hands. "You do realize that you're violating Cloud's privacy, right?"

The soldier frowned at it. "Normally I'd agree with you, but something's weird here. It's usually not that hard to get a cadet's file if you really want to, but I had to go all the way to Tseng for this one."

Now Sephiroth frowned.

"I know, right? Apparently he's been tagged somehow, but I can't figure out why, and I wasn't about to get Intelligence involved with Cloud. Especially with no real evidence of anything. Hey man, don't have to look at me twice like that, I'm worried too."

"Was there any cause listed for that fire?"

"Just the usual blame on the lack of resources in little towns. Someone's fireplace gets out of control, not enough people or whatever to stop it in time, yadda yadda. Which, okay, I know small towns too and that's not really out of the ballpark. But still."

"Zack, are you sure you're not looking for something that isn't there?"

"Sephiroth, since when has there _not _been a conspiracy in this government?"

"…All right, you may have a point there, but my own still stands. Are you looking for a conspiracy specifically because this is about Cloud?"

"Do I _need _another reason?"

The thing about Zack was that he could make these things seem so _reasonable_. "You do realize that we can't use military resources to look into this matter, right?" It could bring accusations of favoritism. Slanderous rumors, given Cloud's age and adolescent attractiveness. Endanger the three of them if there really _was _a conspiracy and the higher-ups found out about their prying.

"Yes, thank you, I do know. Don't worry, I'll keep it on the down-low. Might ask Tseng to do a bit of snooping, since he already knows about this damn file. I bet he gets bored anyway now that Rufus ShinRa's busy trying to take over Parliament, that vicious little snake," he said lightly.

"And here I thought Tseng had his hands full with Lieutenant Colonel Hughes."

"You ask me, those two were the town housewife gossips in a previous life."

"I'll be sure to let him know."

"Wait, I didn't mean it!"


End file.
